Page 151 of Random in Death
“Poppies,” Roarke said. “Poppies will put them to sleep.”
“What?”
“It’s from The Wizard of Oz,” Peabody said helpfully. “The Wicked Witch.”
“He’s no witch, but right now he has the edge on wicked. Come down, will you? I think this comp is straight science. I need to find the personal.”
“He’s got mini cans of Seal-It. Pressure syringes, scope slides. And mother lode. Needle syringes.” With her own sealed hands, Peabody held one up. “A couple dozen, individually packaged. Manufactured by Grant-Frisker Pharm.”
“Find the recycler, see if you can open it. Bag the contents. He may have used it to dispose of the weapons. Fucking science.”
Sitting back, she rubbed her temples. “He’s got some notes in here, and it’s enough to get him for manufacturing controlled substances. And if I’m reading it right, the formula for the cocktail he used on the two victims. But there’s nothing on where he plans to hit next, or notes on where he killed before.”
“The gang’s pulling up.” Peabody slipped her comm back in her pocket. “I’ll go let them in.”
“No, I will. Keep going, and ask Roarke to get us into another comp station.”
To save time, she took the elevator up. Gang had been the appropriate word, she thought when she opened the door.
“Got a bunch of cops for you, Loo.” Jenkinson grinned with it.
“I can use them. Feeney and McNab, take the elevator—under the steps—down a level. He’s got a bunch of comps, a couple tablets so far. He’s wearing his kill clothes, so he’s hunting, and he has a plan. We need to find it.
“The rest of you, spread out. Peabody’s been through his room, but it’s a big house. There’s a greenhouse on the roof. Poppies. Seal up, get samples. If you can’t get into any of the house e’s, they can wait. He wouldn’t put anything on them anyway.
“Droid in the back, deactivated. Leave it that way. We’ll have the e-team see if it’s got anything in its banks to pile on later.”
“You heard her. Trueheart, go up for those samples,” Jenkinson ordered. “Baxter, start on three, and Trueheart’ll join you. Santiago, Carmichael, take the second floor, Reineke and me, we’ve got this one.”
“I’m below,” Eve told them. “He’ll wait until dark. His last hit was before eleven, but we can’t count on that. Let’s find the fucker.”
She went down, found McNab at the comp in the study area.
“Kid’s got it made, and he kills girls? I’d’ve been doing something much else with girls at that age if I had free run down here.”
“Bet you were always pretty.”
He grinned, tried for a modest shrug as he worked. “Well, pretty enough to get Peabody.”
“It wasn’t the pretty. That may start the ball rolling, it doesn’t keep it in play. Find something.”
“What I’m finding is school stuff. Assignments, tests, papers, essays, and all that. And it looks like he’s kept everything, going back to freaking kindergarten.”
“Yeah, he would.”
See how smart I am, how smart I’ve always been.
“Just make sure there’s nothing buried under that. I’m thinking no. Just make sure, then switch over to the lab.”
Feeney stood at one of the counters, digging into one comp. Roarke had the second command center.
“We’re going to need bigger evidence boxes,” Peabody told her. “He’s got morphine, fentanyl, Rohypnol, ketamine, and lots more. And it looks like he’s been making his own street drugs. Zeus, Whore, Erotica. He’s labeled them all. Has a good supply of house-made Stay Up. I guess he’s too embarrassed to buy that over the counter. Must use it when he…” She jerked her hand.
“Whacks off.”
“Yeah, that. I bagged up the recycler. And he’s got a medical waste container.”
“Leave that one for the sweepers.”